


The Joy in Murder

by AnxiousDeceit



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Serial Killers, Blood and Violence, Dead People, Gen, Rated For Violence, Serial Killer Clay | Dream (Video Blogging RPF), no beta we die like men
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-24
Updated: 2020-10-24
Packaged: 2021-03-08 19:16:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,639
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27171641
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnxiousDeceit/pseuds/AnxiousDeceit
Summary: George knew there was a serial killer on the loose. So why did he decide to go out that night?
Relationships: Clay | Dream & GeorgeNotFound & Sapnap (Video Blogging RPF), Clay | Dream & GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF), Clay | Dream & Sapnap (Video Blogging RPF), Clay | Dream/GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF), GeorgeNotFound & Sapnap (Video Blogging RPF)
Comments: 20
Kudos: 331





	The Joy in Murder

**Author's Note:**

> Special thanks to my friend for helping me come up with Dreams killer name! <3

George knew there was a serial killer, or more aptly, a spree killer on the loose - how could he not? 

On practically every street corner in his small town, posters and graffiti stained the walls, warning all of the mysterious axe-murder known as only The Dreamcatcher. 

The newspapers too, couldn’t seem to get enough to print about the new psychotic murderer, choosing to plaster every front page with conspiracies or the latest developments in the case much to the chagrin of the police investigators.

The sudden uproar in the public's desire to know more about this new infamous killer led to many blogs and forums online being dedicated to conspiracies theories detailing alleged sightings and most outrageously- _support_ for the killer.

Some people genuinely believed that this deranged psychopath was doing good for the world by killing off the homeless and less fortunate like some kind of perverse missionary. Some even went as far as to provide locations of which he could ‘clear out’ next- and worse? He actually listened. 

The killer made a special point of visiting the suggested areas- despite police protection- and ‘clearing them out.’

Don’t get George wrong though, that was only a small percentage of people. The rest of their sane population, would rather have their infamous killer off the streets and behind bars.

In brutal honesty, George thought the majority of the town he lived in would have preferred a serial killer to a spree killer. While serial killers were dangerous in their own right, spree killers were downright insane. 

Most serial killers would have their moment of power and controlling victory with a simple slash of a throat and be content living their lives for a little while before the urge would build up and strike again. They would enter a sort of cool-down period, where at least the citizens of the area would be safer for at least a short period of time. This was not the case with a spree killer. There was no cool-down. Once they started, bodies would start piling in multiple locations until the killer was satisfied. 

Ever since the first gruesome remains of a brutal spree killing, his town had been terrified to even leave their houses. 

So why, after knowing all of this- did George leave his house at night to visit his friend Sapnap? Well. He just wanted to say hi.

In his defense, nothing had happened when he’d left or even when he’d arrived at Sapnap’s house. It was only after he’d left to return home with a concerned, “Stay safe out there, George!” from his friend that things started to go downhill.

A little short cut through an alley back home wouldn’t hurt, would it? In fact, it was probably safer as it would minimize the amount of time he spent out on the streets. Less time equaled less probability of encountering the Dreamcatcher, right? Oh… George was so stupid.

The glint of a sharp axe shining in the moonlight was the first thing he saw. It swung through the air at such a speed that if it weren’t for the reflected moonlight- George would have entirely missed it. 

“George, was it?” A haunting voice huffed as George threw himself at a damp alleyway wall to get away from the axe.

George only spared him a fearful glance as he scanned the alleyway for an exit. He was trapped. 

The killer smirked, “I think I’ll have fun killing you.” He swung his axe again, just barely missing George by an inch as he leapt out of the way.

The weapon came crashing down on an old wooden box instead, sending large and small fragments of wood in every direction. The killer laughed. 

“You’re good!” He chucked, face suddenly turning dark, “But not good enough.”

He stalked forward, moonlight illuminating the white of his strangely unsettling mask. George couldn’t help but pale at the crudely drawn smiley face.

The killer laughed once more, “Do you like it~?”

George shuddered.

“Because I was planning on painting a copy on this wall-” He lovingly stroked his fingers across the damp, mossy wall in question, “In your blood.” 

George didn’t hesitate to turn tail and run further into the labyrinth like alleyway, hoping that the confusing twists and turns would throw his pursuer off, but it only seemed to make him more excited.

On every corner he turned or passageway he sprinted down, George heard him only paces behind him. So he hid- stupidly. He ducked into the nearest turn and crouched, hands over his mouth behind a set of moldy boxes.

He suddenly heard his pursuers' footsteps cease.

“Oh Geeoooge~!” He called melodically, “Come out to play!”

And despite his better judgement, George felt himself shouting, “Just leave me alone!”

The boxes in front of him splintered, and George rolled away to avoid the axes blade once more.

“Well that wasn’t very smart wasn’t it?” The killer commented mockingly, suddenly looming right over his head.

George froze in fright.

“And here I thought you’d be more fun!” He brought the axe down over George's head, and in the split second he had to escape- he noticed something. 

There. In the reflection of his mask, a dark shape lay behind Georges head. 

With quick fingers, George grabbed the splintered plank of wood and brought it above his head. The blade hit it with a crunch, digging into the wood and getting caught inside.

The killer's eyes grew wide as he struggled to regain his control of the axe, but as he tried, George yanked the wood and axe from his grip, casting it aside with a clang.

Shock was clear in the killer's stance before a smirk filled his voice, “Oh I _like_ you.”

With no weapon in sight, the killer threw a punch, catching the side of George's face. It seemed he was just as good at fighting without a weapon as he was without. George however, couldn’t rely on instincts forever. 

“Running again?!” The killer shouted, attempting to grab George’s shirt as he sprinted back the way he came, but just fell short, “You’re no fun, George!”

George knew he couldn’t outrun him for long; he wouldn’t make it to his own house- it was too far. His only hope was to make it back to Sapnap’s and hope he was still awake to let him in in time.

As George turned what he hoped was the right corner back however, he realized one crucial thing. He had no idea where he was going. He was lost in this ridiculous maze of back alleys with a killer who probably knew them like the back of his hand. 

The increasingly louder footsteps scared him into making another sharp turn, causing him to step into a large puddle of what he hoped was water and oh- oh this was definitely the wrong way.

Before him sat a body- brutalized in a way that he only read about and never dreamed of seeing in person. Axe wounds were slashed into his neck and arms, leaving blood trailing into a very large puddle of blood which meant _oh_ \- He was standing in _blood_.

A sudden kick to the side sent him and a garbage can crashing to the ground.

“You just had to ruin this didn’t you?! You just had to stumble in and ruin my perfect scene!” He threw punch after punch after punch into George’s stomach causing him to cough and splutter. 

“You ruined it! You ruined it! You ruined it!” The deranged killer shouted.

George looked up at the killer's face- his mask had fallen off in all the movement- instead hanging off his ear by a single strap, allowing George to view the killer's piercing eyes and blood splattered freckled face.

“Who are you?” George chokes out. 

The man above him paused, seeming to contemplate the question, “You know who I am. I am the Dreamcatcher.” He seemed proud of himself, “But that's too formal for my liking- call me Dream, Georgie.” 

_Dream_ didn’t waste another moment in leaning over George, his legs on either side of his torso, to wrap his hands around his throat.

“I’m going to be the last thing you’ll ever see!”

George felt the blood on the ground soak into his skin and hair as Dream’s hands tightened around his throat, cutting off his air. He likely only had moments before he would pass out.

But then a sharp glint caught his eye- would it work again? Surely not.

Regardless of the risk, George grasped the handle of the garbage can’s lid and with a desperate shout, swung it hard into the side of Dream’s head, sending the killer sprawling away from George.

A loud clang filled the air, and then silence.

George’s hands immediately flew up to his throat to massage the aching muscles.

It worked?!

George glanced at Dream's body lying only inches away from him and scrambled to his feet.

That hit was extremely lucky; George knew that if Dream was actually paying attention- he would be dead by now.

There was blood pooling at the side of his head, but with all the blood currently around them, George couldn’t tell if it was from Dream or the _other body_ lying dead at his feet.

George could almost throw up.

But Dream wasn’t dead- his chest still rose up and down rhythmically- if not a little slowly, but George didn’t want to take any chances. 

The image of his bloodstained mask and its soulless black eyes seared itself into his brain as he spared a final glance in its direction. 

Then he ran, only daring to believe that the way he went would be the right direction. He hoped Sapnap wouldn’t be too mad at him when he turned up on his doorstep covered in blood.


End file.
